


Breach

by howterrifying



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mycroftcentric, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9844496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howterrifying/pseuds/howterrifying
Summary: A one-shot, prompt-fill. Sherlock and Molly celebrate their happiness as newly-weds which in turn inspire Mycroft to take a gamble with his own chances at a happiness he could have had before.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is Sherlolly but it's got a Mycroftcentric conclusion because...I love Mycroft. ♡
> 
> This is a one-shot for this prompt I received on tumblr a loooong time back.
> 
> _**Could you write Sherlock and Molly at the Holmes estate in Summer and skinny dipping in the lake. They accidentally laugh to loud and Mycroft comes down only to become mentally scarred...** _
> 
> I am so sorry for taking so long and I hope you don't mind me tweaking your prompt slightly! I changed it from the lake to the sea and instead of mentally scarring Mycroft, well...you'll see ;)

**Breach**  
  
For a wedding that had been so private, it seemed odd that it had taken place in such grandeur. It was the late Uncle Rudi who had maintained the original Holmes estate; a grand old house on a private coast which had first belonged to Mycroft and Sherlock’s _great_ -grandfather.  
  
Having the wedding at the estate had been Mycroft’s idea. Molly had broached the subject to the older (and wiser) of the Holmes brothers when she and her fiancé, Sherlock Holmes, were deciding on where best to be wed. The estate was private and far from the press - important for a man of Sherlock’s reputation, but not without the beauty of its grounds or the significance of its family history.  
  
“Neither of us were expected to marry,” Mycroft had told Molly, “But you and my brother are about to make Holmes family history - and my parents _very_ happy.”  
  
The wedding party had been ever so intimate, with only close friends and family which, for both Sherlock and Molly, were incredibly few. In spite of its small scale, it had been a roaring success. There were smiles, speeches, Sangria and the glorious sea breeze that danced around them.  
  
As the wedding revelry died down and the guests all retreated to their rooms, Sherlock and Molly decided to take a quiet stroll, their first stroll down the beach as a married couple. It was close to midnight and their paths in the sand could barely be seen if not for the reflection of the moon and stars on the water’s surface.  
  
“Well, you’ve been a married man for at least five hours now,” Molly said with a soft chuckle, “How are we feeling about that?”  
“Surprisingly okay,” replied Sherlock, turning to his wife and managing to kiss her on the forehead in the dark.  
  
The pair of them smiled privately, knowing their faces were shrouded by the lack of light around them.  
  
“And how are _you_ feeling? Having just married a high-functioning sociopath?” he teased in return, squeezing her hand as they continued walking.  
“Do you want an honest answer?” Molly remarked, stopping suddenly.  
  
Sherlock stopped as abruptly as she had, except a worried frown etched itself on his face.  
  
“Y-es,” he answered, a little warily.  
  
Even in the dark, Molly could see how fiercely his brows had knitted together from worry. She had not meant to alarm him, and whilst it amused her, she quickly sought to ease his anxiety.  
  
“Oh, Sherlock,” said Molly, smiling as she moved to wrap her arms around him, “I’ve _never_ been better.”  
  
His only response was to smile in relief, only to swiftly transit to smiling against her lips as he kissed her in the dark.  
  
“Let’s go for a swim,” she whispered against his mouth.  
“We’re not quite dressed for it, Moll-”  
“Precisely,” she said, removing herself from his embrace as she began undoing the buttons on her blouse.  
  
Sherlock stared after her figure that retreated from him in the dark, his jaw dropping slightly as he watched her peel layer after layer of clothing, throwing them into the sand before she finally reached the water. With one last look back at Sherlock, she leapt into the water with a squeal and a laugh as the cold electrified her skin.  
  
Had he been the man he was before meeting Molly Hooper, he would have never even come down to the beach simply to bask in its beautiful night air. How different things were now that he was the man she had chosen to marry. Every rule he had made for himself he now broke as he found himself following suit. Within moments, his scattered clothes lay alongside Molly’s scattered ones whilst he swum alongside her, feeling the rush of the cold water on his skin and the rush of his love for her in his veins.  
  
Some distance away, in the quietness of a large balcony that overlooked the coast, a lone female figure stood, wrapped only in a silk kimono and with a pair of binoculars in her hands.  
  
“My-croft,” she called out, amused.  
“Hmm?” he answered from where he sat inside perusing some work documents.  
“You might want to see this,” said the woman, turning towards the lit bedroom, “Then again, perhaps you should not.”  
“Unless it’s something related to this dreaded MoU* I have to read, I don’t think it’s worth the commute to the balcony,” he answered in his usual droll fashion.  
“You can blame your uncle for this ostentatious room and its equally ostentatious balcony,” said Mycroft’s companion, returning the binoculars to her eyes and staring out in amusement at the sea. “But really, you should see this.”  
“Describe it to me then,” he continued, refusing to leave his armchair just as his eyes refused to leave the lines and lines of printed text.  
  
The woman sighed and walked back into the room, seating herself in the armchair across from Mycroft. It was only when she cleared her throat that he looked up from his document. Gently removing his glasses, Mycroft crossed his legs elegantly and smiled at the woman across him.  
  
“Are you about to describe your interesting observation to me?” he asked, his droll smile not leaving his lips.  
“Well, the wedding your organised was clearly successful,” she began, “So successful that your brother and new sister-in-law are now frolicking nude in the sea.”  
  
It was Mycroft’s turn to clear his throat, except that it was from the apparent discomfort at the woman’s description of his brother’s newlywed activities. The disappearance of his smile and the obvious unease in his expression caused the woman to chuckle softly. Getting up from her seat, she poured herself a glass of whisky and took a slow slip before walking over to Mycroft. She offered him her glass as she perched herself carefully on the armrest of his chair. Mycroft took a grateful sip and returned the glass to her.  
  
“Maybe we should get married,” she said, eyeing Mycroft who looked back up at her, slightly perplexed at what she had said.  
“ _You’re_ the one who didn’t want to,” Mycroft reminded her, taking the glass from her hands as he stole another sip.  
“It looks - _fun_ , being married.”  
“It is an illusion. Your own words, I recall,” said Mycroft, returning to his documents.  
“Still,” said the woman, sliding off the armrest and walking away, “It looks _fun_.”  
  
From the corner of his eye he could see that she had disappeared into their bathroom. Mycroft could make out the sound of taps being turned and the sound of their bath running. Light wisps of steam began floating out of their bathroom door as the sound of gushing water continued to fill the air.  
  
Clearing his throat, Mycroft put his papers down and walked swiftly to the balcony, taking with him the binoculars she had been holding. When he saw what she had been talking about, he was taken aback. Except his shock was not from having invaded a terribly private moment. Mycroft was no stranger to invading the privacy of others, so it bore no effect on him. His shock came from the fact that from so many metres away, where he could barely distinguish the figures of his brother and sister-in-law splashing about in the large body of water in front of him, he could see, ever so clearly, their _happiness_.  
  
“My-croft,” came the same voice from inside the bathroom.  
“Yes?” he answered, putting the binoculars down and walking back into the room.  
“Take a break from MoU and join me,” she said, her voice clear now that the sound of rushing water had ceased.  
  
Mycroft considered her proposition, recalling his _own_ proposition to her some years ago. She had promised never to mention it, just as he had promised never to ask her again. Yet, the happiness they had both witnessed had caused an instant breach of their private agreements. Perhaps this was a sign that it was worth trying again.  
  
“In a minute,” said Mycroft, shutting the doors to the balcony before making his way to join her. First, a bath. Then perhaps, if all went well, he just might give this happiness - _their_ happiness - another go.  
   
**END**  
  
_*Memorandum of Understanding_


End file.
